


A Drive in the Dark

by penguin_parties



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:11:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguin_parties/pseuds/penguin_parties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry needs the courage to finally confess what's been weighing on his heart for two years; maybe a nice, calm drive in the dark with a certain Niall Horan will urge him to spill his secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Drive in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if run on sentences and comma splices bother you. I know they're there and I use them for a reason though I swear xx

                Harry’s eyes scan the view of London from where he stands; its bright lights burning even at the crack of midnight, and the darkness that sets itself snugly in the streets below, creating a surreptitious blanket. His mind flickers back to flashing beams of every color and screaming girls and blaring music and singing his heart out on a stage as thousands of people watch; his dream come true. He can’t believe how far One Direction has come; how big they’ve become. As he looks down on the city before him now, he can’t help but feel like he and his four best mates have just conquered it.

                “Enjoying the view, Haz?” a certain smirking brunette saunters up beside Harry, stands in front of the glass pane that goes from the floor to the ceiling and makes up an entire wall, casts a glance over the amazing sight as well.

                “It’s fantastic,” Harry comments in response, turning his head to smile at Louis. Louis returns the grin and for a moment Harry thinks maybe Louis is thinking the same; that the members of One Direction are like the conquistadors of modern London.

                “So yesterday I got hit in the head with a smoke machine,” Louis chuckles and launches into one of his exaggerated, comical stories that he loves to tell. Harry guesses that’s a no; their thought process isn’t quite the same.

                A month ago, Louis planned a tour takeoff party for the Sunday night right after they finished their fourth concert, and he was determined to throw it whether or not their first four concerts went well. He rented out the penthouse of a suave five star hotel in London (because he had the money to do so now, and why not?) and invited the boys, the band, the crew members, and any friends (or family in the boys’ case) that those people wanted to bring. For a Sunday night, there was quite a turn out; even Nick Grimshaw showed up even though he had to be at his morning show before the sun came up. Louis had ordered enough drinks to get all of London smashed, and Harry found that the DJ was actually pretty good and everyone was having a really great time. In conclusion, this was the best Sunday night/Monday morning party Harry had ever been to.

                Louis was finishing his story just as Liam walked up, hearing the last of it and managing to chuckle a bit with Harry as Louis describes the incident sarcastically and overdramatically; a hysterical combination.

                “Telling him about the smoke machine, huh?” Liam asked; he must have already been told, Harry presumed. Louis and Liam had been pretty close as of recently it seemed. “Tell him about what happened like five minutes before tonight’s concert started.”

                “Okay, well, Liam and I were in the dressing room goofing off, right; moving things around and hiding them to confuse people. And while we were in the middle of this, Zayn walked in and…”

                Suddenly, something catches Harry’s eye. It’s blonde and it’s bubbly and it’s bright with energy; it’s Niall. The Irish boy is standing behind a plush couch across the room from Harry, listening to Josh Devine tell him a joke. Harry’s smile drops. A burning, green ball of jealousy forms itself in his stomach and he feels his blood beginning to boil because Niall has been hanging out with Josh a lot more than Harry is comfortable with, and he definitely doesn’t want Josh stealing the blonde from under Harry’s nose before Harry even builds up the courage to tell Niall how he feels about him.

                “Uh oh,” Harry hears Louis mutter beside him; he must have followed Harry’s line of vision to see what the curly haired boy was staring at. “Cue mood swing.”

                Harry doesn’t care enough to respond. His mind is set on the gorgeous boy across the room and the nauseating image of Josh and Niall as a thing, an item, a couple; an inseparable duo who bond over their shared passion for music, and pleasure each other with not only jokes and goofiness, but in bed as well. That isn’t a picture Harry wants hanging on the walls of his mind.

                “Better get a move on, Loverboy,” Louis teases. Harry glares at him for an extended moment before his eyes return to what he sees as an angel with a halo of perfectly styled, blonde tufts.

                “Don’t call me Loverboy,” Harry mumbles grumpily; his mood has suddenly switched from cheery and content to the manner of someone who has just been punched in the heart (because it feels as if he has).

                “Tell him how much you love him and I’ll stop,” Louis replies, treating the words like a bet although care and concern manage to etch themselves into his voice.

                “Wait, they aren’t together?” Liam jumps in just as Harry is opening his mouth to respond. “I thought by the way you two have been acting onstage that you must have told him.”

                “Nope,” Louis replies, eyeing Harry as the boy from Cheshire looks longingly at Niall, “Harry’s still a coward and Niall’s still clueless.”

                Harry sighs sadly, looks at what little of his drink is left in the cup he holds in his hand. He closes his eyes and decides he needs to take more risks. He needs to be more outrageous and spontaneous like Louis is; Niall adores Louis, hangs onto every word he says, laughs at every joke Louis pulls. He needs to be courageous and daring; that’s how all the heroes in books are written. They go on adventures, conquer enemies, defeat evil, rescue fair maidens (or misters in Harry’s case), and come out of their journey without a scratch in the end. So Harry decides that’s what he’ll do.

                “Alright,” Harry nods and raises his head, staring determinedly at Niall; who is still a pile of giggles and beaming smiles with Josh in his presence.

                Louis briefly raises his eyebrows and quirks up his lips in a gentle grin, proud and happy for his best mate; maybe his days of pining and stolen looks will finally be over.

                “You promise you’ll stop calling me Loverboy?” Harry smirks, trying to pass what he’s about to do as a simple task he has to endure in order to get his friend off his back. Internally though, Harry’s stomach is churning, spinning its contents like clothes in a washer. The feeling is so strong he worries he might faint.

                “Deal,” Louis winks, able to read the nervousness in the demeanour of Harry’s forest eyes.

                Harry nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, anxiety setting in. He coughs, shakes out his wavy curls, and hands his nearly-empty plastic cup to Louis, who takes it obligingly. Harry looks ahead at the handsome lad he’s admired since that week in X Factor when he got sick and Niall was there to comfort him the most and he takes a dogged step towards him…and then he takes a step back.

                “You should know,” Louis speaks; intent on lightening the mood and picking some of the tension out of the air as he senses Harry’s self-doubtful thoughts, “I only agreed to stop calling you Loverboy. That doesn’t mean I won’t call you and Niall lovebugs or lovebirds or Romeo when you two end up together.”

                Harry rolls his eyes and manages a small smile, grateful for Louis’ attempt to put his nerves at ease. It didn’t really help, but he takes a deep breath anyways, and with that he’s walking over to Niall with an evident purpose in his step. As he gets closer to the laugh he’s memorized and the voice he could recognize if whispered and the bleach blonde hair he can easily spot in a crowded room, he realizes this is it. This is really happening. He’s going to come out with everything he’s been hiding for so long. He’s going to reveal his sexuality to Niall, confess his veiled feelings, and steal Niall’s heart all in one swift move; he’s determined to do so. Now he’s only a few steps away and Josh’s head is turning to curiously watch Harry approach and then he’s only a foot away and Niall looks over towards him and recognition dawns on his face and he flashes a toothy smile in Harry’s direction and Harry’s opening his mouth and-

                “Hey, Niall.” He immediately regrets not having some sort of speech prepared.

                Niall nods an acknowledgement, beams through a polite, “’Lo, Harry.”

                Harry gets lost, can’t help but stare for an awkward moment of silence. It’s not his fault entirely though. He’d like to think that Niall is actually to blame for letting his eyes get so big and blue and sparkly and for allowing his pink lips to look so kissable and for permitting his skin to look so flawless.

                Harry blinks and suddenly snaps out of his daydream. He turns and greets Josh as well and tries not to make a bigger fool of himself than he already has; he imagines his cheeks are slowly beginning to radiate a scarlet red glow.

                “Uh,” he pauses and nervously fumbles with his fingers, shyly watching a spot on the wall right beside Niall’s head so he doesn’t float off into those sky blue eyes again. “Could I…Niall, could I talk to you? Out on the balcony maybe?”

                “Sure,” Niall replies happily, mumbles departing words to Josh, and takes off towards the sliding glass doors with Harry trailing anxiously behind him.

The heavy doors glide open and reveal a sight that makes Harry’s breath hitch; they’re so high up from the ground and it’s like the whole world is open to them and the atmosphere is so large and it gives him that incredible, racing feeling of invincibility. For a moment, his heart slows for the first time in five minutes, and for a moment, he’s confident in telling Niall his feelings. And then Niall is flashing that blinding smile at him and his cerulean eyes are glowing and chewing away the comfort in Harry’s skin and suddenly he wants to run away and hide again; be away from the chilly night air and Niall’s addicting everything and most of all his stupid _feelings_.

“This is incredible,” Niall comments, his eyes full of awe as they take in his surroundings.

Harry exhales, admires Niall’s profile, lets out a quiet, “Yeah.”

                “Feels like,” Niall chuckles, “Like it’s our city, you know? Like we’ve…we’ve dominated it! We rule London!” – by now he’s yelling as if he’s declaring victory after a suspenseful battle – “London is ours!”

                Harry laughs, and asks, “Kind of like we’ve conquered it right? Like we’re modern UK conquistadors?”

                Niall nods enthusiastically, rests his hands on the railing at the edge of the balcony, “Exactly right, yeah.”

                Harry silently wonders how far of a fall love is. No matter the distance though, Harry’s certain that he’s hit rock bottom.

                “So,” Niall says, bringing Harry’s attention back to the terrifying situation he’s facing on Earth, “What did you wanna talk to me about?”

                Niall turns around and rests his back against the railing, crossing his arms across his chest and looking at Harry expectantly but patiently. Harry takes a deep breath, looks out at London and imagines that the city is cheering him on; urging him to just go for it.

                “Niall, have you ever loved someone?” Harry asks, the words coming out of his mouth at the pace of a running snail.

                “Course,” Niall shrugs easily, raises a hand and begins to count off his fingers as he speaks, “Me mam, me dad, me brudder, Liam, Louis, Zayn..”

                “No, no, I mean,” Harry hesitates, not wanting to have to be so explanatory of it – he still can’t believe he’s feeling such strong emotions and it’s just so strange and new to him – the idea almost makes him uncomfortable. “You know what I mean.”

                Niall’s blank stare tells him that he doesn’t.

                Harry sighs impatiently, “Have you ever been in love, Niall?”

                “Oh,” Niall’s eyes dash to the wall he faces, and his voice gets smaller and lower – almost insecure, “No, Harry, I can’t say I have.”

                Harry’s sick of the balcony. The horizon is miles away and there’s so much ambiguity as far as the eye can see and not being able to control his environment is beginning to eat at him. He needs something he can steer and guide and direct so that he gets more comfortable around Niall – maybe comfortable enough to _finally_ confess.

                “We need to go for a drive,” Harry states.

                “What?” Niall asks just before Harry takes a hold of his thin wrist and drags him inside. He doesn’t get an answer from Harry as he is tugged through the crowd and people say hello and goodbye and suddenly they find themselves in a lift and Niall decides to inquire Harry on his random decision again. “Why exactly are we going for a drive?”

                Harry shrugs, watching the numbers along the top of the metallic doors flash, counting down until the moving compartment reaches the first floor, “I just feel better when I’m driving.”

                “Okay,” Niall nods as if he understands; he doesn’t.

                As the elevator nears the lobby, Harry finds himself turning his head and appreciating Niall’s gorgeous profile; sometimes it seems he can’t help but look at the boy he’s certain he loves. Niall must have noticed though because he sharply turns his head and jokingly winks at the brunette. Harry’s cheeks flame up to a dangerously high temperature.

                A ding goes off to let the two boys know that the lowering metallic box has reached its destination, and Harry leads Niall out of the lift, into the hotel’s valet and over to his sleek, black Range Rover. They jump in, strap in their seatbelts and they’re cruising the streets when Harry finally speaks.

                “So how’s Josh?” he asks, trying not to show how much he’s anticipating Niall’s answer. Trees and other cars and stores and other streets are passing the car but Harry is completely blind to them. His ears only hear Niall and his eyes only see Niall and his heart only beats _NiallNiallNiall_ ; an erratic, hammering pattern that Harry isn’t quite sure he is fond of or not.

                “Good,” Niall replies simply, beginning to pat his hands against his jeans to a beat that only Niall knows the rhythm of. “He’s excited for the tour, having lots of fun already.”

                Harry would like to feel relieved because he didn’t receive a direct confession of Niall’s undying love for his newly found soul mate. But then again, just because Niall didn’t say they were together, he didn’t say that they were just casual friends either. Harry lets out a frustrated sigh before he can stop himself and Niall immediately jumps on it.

“What – don’t you like Josh?” Niall asks, surprised but at the same time nonchalant. He glances at Harry, his eyebrows falling together as his face clouds with confusion; Josh is such a nice, genuine guy and as far as Niall’s seen, Harry has been nothing but nice to him. Niall’s wandering mind ponders this for a moment before he’s distracted by the passing streetlights and their guiding, yellow glow. Harry looks over at the boy sitting shotgun, and gets mildly distracted by Niall’s azure eyes as the lingering luminosity of a streetlight brings the sparkle in those beloved gems to life. Harry continues to watch as that yellow light tiptoes up Niall’s pale forehead to his hairline, slowly passing over an inch of Niall’s radiantly blonde quiff before the car passes said streetlight and its gift of light burns out – only to be replaced by the spotlight of another blessed streetlight a few feet away. Harry blinks and turns his view back to the pavement that fails to run from the preying wheels of his Range Rover as he remembers the question at hand.

                “No, I like Josh,” Harry says, takes a breath before continuing, “I think he’s great – everyone thinks he’s great. You think he’s great and he probably thinks you’re great but the thing is that _I_ think you’re great too and I just wish that maybe _you’d_ think that I’m great, you know?”

                “Uh,” Niall mutters, casts a questioning look in Harry’s direction, “I’m not following.”

                Harry sighs and chews on his bottom lip as he wonders how to go about confessing what’s on his mind. According to all the romance novels he’s read and all the romantic comedies he’s watched, this isn’t how these things are supposed to go.

                “Remember how I asked you if you’ve ever been in love?” Harry decides on, approaching the topic with as much caution as possible.

                “Course,” Niall nods.

                “Well, that’s cause I think,” Harry pauses, tries to convince himself that yes, it’s time to come out with it, “I think I’m in love.”

                Niall’s voice gets quieter, “Are you?”

                “With,” Harry swallows, “With a boy.”

                “You’re gay?” Niall exclaims, sits up in his seat and stares at Harry, his eyes as round as saucers. Harry lets himself believe that there is relief painting Niall’s voice; the heart hears or sees or feels what the heart wants to hear or see or feel after all.

                Harry purses his lips and nods, waiting for more of a reaction than the initial shock and the process of the information that he notes is in the eyes of every other person he tells.

                Niall shrugs nonchalantly, rolls his lips between his teeth, and nods thoughtfully. Finally, he says, “Yeah. Well I didn’t know that.”

                Harry tries to hold in the happiness that bubbles in his heart before it bursts out into the form of a gigantic smile. He’s positive that he looks ridiculous with a twitching, forced frown that feels so out of place on his face. But Niall is so calm and neutral about it and Harry was so worried about telling him and now a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he fails to stop himself from breathing out a sigh of relief.

                “So,” Niall says and looks towards Harry with a soft spark in his pools of sapphire that have been so simply labelled as eyes, “Who’s the lucky guy who’s won your heart?”

                There’s that erratic heartbeat again, beating so hard that Harry can hear it in his ears and feel it in his hands and he worries that maybe Niall can tell that it’s there too.

                “Well,” he says hesitantly, willing his words not to tumble over each other as they roll off his tongue, “He’s blonde for one.”

                “Please don’t tell me that Taylor Swift is a man,” is Niall’s response.

                Harry laughs and swerves just a bit at that; he really can’t blame anyone for making fun of his (or rather, his manager’s) choice for dating material. He knows he was only bait for the lyric writing wolf that lives in Taylor’s brain and feasts on ex-boyfriends and he’s fine with that; he’s really just helping a fellow artist out, isn’t he?

                “No, it’s not Taylor Swift,” Harry chuckles, “Plus, the guy I like is Irish.”

                “I knew you’d end up with someone Irish!” Niall cries gleefully, excitedly throwing a weak punch at Harry’s arm, “See, the accent just sticks to you doesn’t it? And the charm too. You just can’t get enough of that leprechaun blood, you know. Once you get a single taste, you’re addicted!”

                Harry laughs some more, feels more at ease as the minutes pass. “He has blue eyes too.”

                Niall taps a finger to his chin, possible suitors for Harry appearing rapidly in his brain. He giggles a bit, “What, are you in love with the twin I never knew I had?”

                “No,” Harry shakes his head, throws a smile at Niall that says Harry knows something the blonde lad doesn’t, “I’m in love with you.”

                Harry is in as much shock as Niall is. Damn Niall for making him feel comfortable and able to be open and honest. The Holmes Chapel boy’s face drains of color but blood flushes the apples of his cheeks at the same time. His lips part as he gasps. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Niall has a similar expression.

                “I mean…I mean,” Harry stumbles over possible explanations, excuses. His mind is blank and he’s beginning to panic because why is he so stupid? Why did he go and do that? He’s going to regret this drive; this whole night for the rest of his life. “I just…I didn’t…That didn’t come out right…Please Niall don’t hate me.”

                He flicks on his turn signal to indicate that he wants to pull over on the side of the road, but Niall protests, “No, keep driving. I…I just…need to think for a minute.”

                Harry doesn’t respond, just turns off the flash signal and keeps his eyes straight ahead. His knuckles turn white as they tightly clench the steering wheel, and he’s gritting his teeth from the nerves, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to even look at Niall again. He’s just wrecked the entire band; Niall will feel awkward around him and their friendship will fall apart and how can they be One Direction if two of the members can’t share the same path anymore because of the tension between them? Harry wants to cry, can already feel the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and the little lump forming in his throat and his nose has that weird tickly feeling in it. He grits his teeth harder; tells himself to calm down. He just has to survive the ride back to the hotel and then he can hide in a random bedroom in the penthouse for the rest of the night (or, rather, the rest of his life).

                “Harry, you’re really cool,” Niall suddenly says out of nowhere. Harry can hear the “but I only like you as a friend” coming and he gives his heart a little pat on the back and a wave goodbye as it prepares to break, “And I haven’t really thought of you that way until now; well I probably have, that’s a lie. But that’s not a bad thing because…I’ve just thought about meeting you at X Factor and all the fun we have and how sweet and genuine and kind-hearted you are and recently I’d get these random nerves around you and I thought it was about the shows and now I’m not so sure. I really like your curly, silky hair and your dimples and the way you laugh and how well of a listener you are and how you’re so quick to see the good in people and you’re just such this incredible person and I think that I may not have realized it until now but maybe…”

                Niall pauses. Harry can tell his thoughts are all over the place at the moment and he understands, but it’s like he’s hanging off the edge of a cliff and Niall’s next words will either tug him back up to safety or push him down to his gruesome demise. Niall turns and faces Harry; his brows crinkled in almost confusion and his eyes roam Harry’s face as if he’d find an answer there. He blinks rapidly as if the truth just came to him in the form of a white, bright light. A grin slowly lifts up the ends of his lips.

                “Maybe I love you too.”

                Harry laughs. His heart took a leap and now it’s soaring, soaring, soaring. He can’t believe this is happening; he thought that conquering London was a dream come true but this moment definitely seems a lot better. He pulls over so fast that he’s sure it’s illegal and he launches himself at Niall, still laughing. He wraps his arms around Niall’s torso, and Niall’s hands are quick to hold the back of his head and the bend of his back so they remain as close as possible.

                “I can’t believe it,” Harry mutters into Niall’s shoulder, “I was so scared to tell you and I was positive you didn’t feel the same way and I saw you with Josh and I got worried that maybe you liked him but you don’t; you just said that you might love me and that’s enough for me because as long as you think there’s something; _anything_ here then that means I can have you and you can be mine and I can be yours.”

                Niall chuckles, his mind through going through the steps of understanding and processing and suddenly his brain is throwing memories of laughing with Harry and holding hands with Harry and being so close to kissing Harry and he can’t believe that he didn’t realize how much he so intentionally wanted all of that until now. He kisses the mop of dark locks that rests so perfectly under his chin in this position and, with a new feeling of _just right_ in his heart, he holds Harry a little tighter.


End file.
